


Seize the Day

by crazyground



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyground/pseuds/crazyground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>after the war, yunho and changmin attempt to piece their lives back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seize the Day

yunho is warm against his side, arm heavy around his shoulders, and for a moment changmin thinks that he could forget here and now. then a bell wails and that arm is displaced, yunho is on his feet and tugging him across the platform. it must be the loneliest this once grand station has ever been, almost deserted of passengers and passengers almost deserted of belongings. changmin clings to his one backpack and quickens his pace to keep up.

the station master is a thin man with purpled veins crawling over the skin visible from his scuffed up uniform and greying hair under his cap. he doesn’t look up when yunho pushes changmin past him and through the door, but his lips move as though in greeting. other people board the train as well, a small group of middle aged women and a broken family filing into the train, stopping before them and taking their seats. yunho guides them to the back of the carriage where the seats and covered in flattened velvet. the radio above them cackles to life as they collapse into the booth, but all that is heard is static.

“there’s no destination - ” a baby begins to shriek upfront, changmin cuts off with a frown. He glares but that's useless so he has no choice but to raise his voice. "this train has no destination. apparently its tracks go in a giant, endless loop."

yunho glances at him. “i heard that too,” he answers, unperturbed. “we’ll get off as soon as we reach some sort of proper civilisation, okay? nearer the capital. we'll be there in no time.”

he drums a beat against changmin’s knee as the train pulls out of the station and their hometown melts away, from charred buildings and abandoned streets to clear, barren wasteland. it begins steady but loses its rhythm soon enough, a nervous tick that has changmin wanting to reach out and take his hand.

changmin crosses his arms. then he leans back and rests his head against the headboard, slumps down until his chin is a hair’s breadth away from yunho’s shoulder. like this, he cannot see the window, and if he doesn’t turn his head, he cannot see the world rushing by.

perfect.

* * *

their house is somewhat smaller than the one they’d fled from, with its bathroom and miniscule kitchenette resulting in even less sleeping space than before. a cupboard takes up one wall, a table and its stools take up another, a fan occupies a corner. the yellowed photograph of their families, tinny and almost unrecognisable, is stuck to the back of their door. there is only enough space left to stretch out one mattress.

beggars can't be choosers, so yunho dumps their rescued belongings by the doorway, and then cautiously toes out of his boots, careful not to kick both their sleeping arrangement. he sprawls out after that, just enough space for his head and bare feet to miss the opposite walls, and pats the spot next to him.

unimpressed, changmin cocks an eyebrow and places his hands on his hips. “i’m bigger than you, hyung,” he drawls. not necessarily true, but he is certainly taller. changmin almost smiles at the beginnings of a sulk on yunho’s face. “you can’t honestly expect me to fit on that thing with you.”

with a bit of shuffling and an elbow into his stomach (“sorry!” yunho smirks. “it can't be helped, what with you being so big and all!”), they manage to lie side by side, straight as boards to conserve space. then yunho grunts and ruins all their work by squirming until he (bangs his head against the wall) is on his side, groping down changmin’s side in search of his hand. changmin remains still - he doesn’t want to knock into anything like his idiotic hyung, that’s all - and doesn’t realise he is holding his breath until yunho takes his hand and presses his thumb against his pulse. it comes rushing out of him noisily, but he doesn't quite have an excuse for his strange behaviour, so he stays silent and waits.

yunho begins to talk: he starts with, “do you think we could get some curtains?”, rambles on about making home and ends with, “we just have to stick together, changminnie, as family.”

the word ‘family’ rolls off his tongue awkwardly, like he wants to believe it but it’s not quite right despite their shared childhoods. changmin would take notice but the soothing tones of yunho’s voice has washed over him and lured down his defences. He drifts off to sleep before he remembers to take his hand back from yunho's.

* * *

changmin takes to biting his bottom lip, tonguing at the red and raw flesh until there is no skin left to peel. yunho’s own lip curls into a sneer when he sees this and changmin attempts to stop, he does, but then he doesn’t know yet what less obvious nervous tick he can replace it with. when he’d been scratching his inner elbows until they stung and bled, yunho had taken to cutting his nails blunt and useless once a week. when he’d been twisting his hands constantly, yunho had, as often as he could, slotted their fingers together and given him something else to hold on.

he makes an effort to stop, honest, he does, but changmin goes back to twisting his hands more often than not.

he is too old for tantrums now, too resigned for fits of anger, but there is too much energy thrumming in his veins. he takes to the streets after and pours the antsy feelings from unemployment into the punching bag of a gym with its walls caved in. he teaches himself how to box and gains back the muscle mass he’d lost in post war poverty. yunho has broadened too, doing odd jobs of tough manual labour. it’s nice to match again, first as skinny boys and now as men.

below their one room apartment - yunho had laughed at this description of the attic they’ve acquired so changmin cannot think of it as anything else - is a tiny store run by an old woman that changmin saves after she’d collapsed across an aisle. out of gratitude, their groceries are free, and job offers are made. she has no family left anyway, there is space to spare.

the job here goes to changmin in the end, and yunho keeps his because the store is simply too small to support the two of them. they could eat through its goods, but changmin is good at math and knows that after that, they will starve. he keeps the shelves appearing to be stocked by pushing all the cartons and packets to the front, and mans the cashier with a pistol under the counter, and looks after the old woman who is only on her feet through sheer willpower alone.

the work is good for them. it burns through the tension in their muscles and replaces it with a rewarding ache, it eats at their thoughts with mundane, everyday concerns until it is hard to mourn.

when they spill through their doorway at the end of each day, exhaustion seeping into their bones, it no longer matters that the shower heater doesn’t work, or that their ceiling bulb is on the blink. after washing up, lights switched off, it is almost comfortable that they can curl up together on their single mattress, alive.

as yunho mumbles his goodnight into the curve of changmin’s shoulder, changmin wonders if maybe they could make a routine out of this.

* * *

when he pulls back, yunho’s eyes are open and rounded with surprise. they skitter across changmin’s face, searching, and land on his mouth. yunho raises his head from the pillow and carefully fits their mouths together again.

it’s almost too easy, the way that they slot together. yunho’s hand comes to cup the back of his neck and changmin pushes down, once, twice, small shallow exploratory kisses.

and then he gasps, pulling back, heaves in a breath as though they’ve been doing so much more - his cheeks flush hotly and he tumbles off yunho and onto the mattress. for a moment, all he can do is lie there, trying frantically, counter productively, to calm his heart.

“sorry,” he mumbles, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “i can’t, sorry, not yet.”

just before he makes his escape, yunho grabs his arm. changmin is almost afraid to look back but when yunho speaks, his voice is kind.

“hey, don’t worry, i get it, just, just stay here alright,” long fingers encircling his wrist, yunho pulls him back onto his side of the mattress. He tugs the duvet away from his body - the cold air runs shivers down his spine - and spreads it across to wrap around changmin’s shoulder. “here, we only have one mattress anyway, and it’s chilly tonight. just, stay there and sleep well and we’ll… talk whenever you’re ready, okay?”

changmin scowls, more at himself, and then he nods. back turned to yunho, he gathers the blanket around himself and squeezes his eyes shut as if that would make him fall asleep faster.

* * *

in the morning, changmin nearly greets yunho with a pat on the shoulder, but stops himself. he almost sees yunho off to work, but skulks in the bathroom until he hears the door slam shut. he almost sits with him behind the counter during lunch, but last minute leaves yunho's plate next to the cash register before disappearing upstairs. there is a foreign awkwardness that seeps into their relationship for the first ever time, sweet and sour by turns. changmin is pretty sure it's his damned fault, but he doesn't know how to fix it. he knows that they need each other but he is lost in the subtleties of romance, but if they are friends or more or less, in some strange manner or another, he does not know.

Yunho, though, treats him as though he is glass, which is pretty fucking ridiculous. he knows how to use his pistol now, and has used it before, that has to count for something right? that an adult thing right? if he can navigate the psychological parts of shooting a living creature, he can absolutely puzzle out intimate relationships.

… okay so that logic probably wouldn't work out as well as he hopes, but changmin's grown up a bit more now, and he's pretty fucking sure he can handle anything yunho can throw at him.

"of course you can," yunho agrees indulgently. he leans back, hip against the counter, an apple in his hand. "but that doesn't mean i should throw anything at you, right? not without good reason, anyway."

and now yunho's got that odd look on his face again, the one that makes changmin squirm the most. changmin wants to bite it off. it might be that the look's most irritating at that upturned quirk at the corners of his lips; yunho catches him staring at his mouth and grins sharply, expectantly.

challenge accepted. "it doesn't matter what you throw at me," changmin tries, "because i'd be sure to catch it.

a pause as they process this, changmin too because he doesn't quite know what he'd tried to say. then, they laugh.

"you're not very good at this," yunho points out cheerfully, "but i can teach you, if you ask nice enough."

in retaliation, changmin filches his apple and takes a large bite. yunho raises an eyebrow but lets him. it’s a quiet, peaceful moment until the entrance bell rings, and a customer comes.

* * *

the old woman's funeral is a quiet affair. aside from them, there is only the young girl from the orphanage across the street, mourning her favourite aunt and the loss of free candy, until her care taker comes and drags her away.

she hadn't written a will before she died, it isn't really their place to simply take over, but it's either that or let the vultures take it. they show up in black suits and tinted sunglasses, and they leave in torn suits and metal frames, the glass shattered away.

her shop goes to them because there isn't anyone else she'd left behind.

start up is rough and shaky because there are suppliers they need to curry up to, competitors they need so subtly intimidate. every day closed is another regular customer lost, no matter how much yunho tries to convince them that they can take over the business well. supplies drain steadily so they no longer take anything more from the store, one pillow and one blanket for nights, the same set of clothes washed and repurposed for the both of them. supplies decline further and they don't eat as often as they should. right now their survival is less important than that of the store.

where the old woman had contacts through decades of old relations and loyalty, they have contacts through. well. one of them yunho saves from a gang of thieves. another, changmin fucks in the bed of her truck, for the promise of being added to her morning route. the last remains anonymous to the end, sending a sizeable crate of handheld electronics and batteries, a card of condolences to the lost of their 'grandmother' and a promise of monthly deliveries for a small 5% cut of the earnings.

yunho doesn't like her and changmin doesn't like how yunho's knuckles are often bruised and bleeding, but it’s a means of income so they stick to it. 

it's not all that bad though. there are mundane days straightening shelves and knocking shoulders behind the counter. there are gifts of home cooked food from the brats that yunho saves, from the supplier when she picks up a girlfriend and no longer needs changmin for a pick me up. there are quiet nights, almost curled up into each other, eyes closed, hands shyly sneaking small, exploratory touches. It's not good, but it isn't bad, and changmin almost, _almost_ dares to hope.

* * *

the day yunho has his left leg broken, changmin breaks twelve other bones, all of which are not either of theirs. 

“we'll have to talk about this,” yunho gasps, shivering at the clatter as changmin drops his bloodstained piping, stumbles over to his side. “because i think that might have been slightly more violence than the situation called for.”

“they hurt you first,” changmin mumbles, hands searching, yunho's too distracted to hurt. it's odd, that yunho is the one who's hurt, but changmin's the one who's shaking. by the time the thieves hobble and drag themselves far enough away, both of them are covered in a cold sheen of sweat. changmin bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, sucks in a harsh breath, and then pulls yunho into the store.

“i've broken bones before,” yunho croaks out as changmin knots a hand fashioned splint to his shin. it's a bit unnecessary because that's exactly why changmin's so good at patching yunho up now. the next tug to yunho's bandages is sharp and hard, but again, changmin's the one that flinches.

“i can't do anything about the shit you trip over,” mutters changmin, and it's almost a joke that's almost funny but if either of them tries to laugh now, he might crack. changmin packs up the first aid kit, sets it aside, and wanders back to yunho in a lost, winding path. then he presses his forehead against yunho's shoulder. it's their only point of contact but changmin is so deathly stiff that yunho doesn't dare reach for more. “people on the other hand...”

they never quite finish their conversation, nor do they bring it up again, but that day generates rumours all on its own. their territory is now guarded by two guard dogs instead of one, and a strenuous truce settles over their store. despite this new found peace (uncomfortable and unsettling but peace nonetheless0), this must be what will be known as their rough patches. in the future they will laugh about this, yunho decides, because they are absolutely going to get through this none the worse for wear.

being crippled and bed ridden makes it hard to be confident. changmin spends most of his time away from their attic, even after the store's operating hours, and he's quiet and unresponsive when he tends to yunho's broken leg; this makes it even harder.

* * *

"her claw marks are gone," yunho says the day he manages to hobble downstairs. changmin barely has time to turn around, and then yunho is all up in his space, teetering on his crutches to press him against the shutters he's just pulled down over the store. a soft shiver thrills down his spine when yunho leans in close enough that his fringe brushes his cheek but he squares his jaw stubbornly.

"yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? she's got her own… _partner_ now," changmin tells him, eyes darting around the room in search for an escape. right is yunho's hand fisting against metal, left but he'd have to shove yunho's crutch out of the way. uh oh. “the short haired one, i think she makes her happy. i think they're good for each other."

“good for her,” yunho echoes. his gaze is hot and stifling. “as long as she's busy with someone else.”

they're both surprised when changmin lets out a sharp bark of laughter. 

"you have a problem with what she was doing?" changmin leans in closer, a challenge in his sneer. "you have a problem with what we were doing?"

"oh, i've got no problem with that," yunho spits out, even though that's a lie. He know he's just being contrary for contrary's sake, itching for a fight, and he knows he should stop, but there's this aggravating restlessness clawing at his chest. If his leg weren't broken, yunho would have. yunho _would have_ \- he raises his voice instead. "who you choose to fuck is the _least_ of my worries."

at that, changmin jolts back, shoves yunho out of the way before he knows what he's doing. off balance, yunho swings his crutch, almost falls, catches himself in time against a shelf. a shout of pain escapes him, changmin is immediately at his side, but yunho flinches back. 

changmin freezes, stricken. "you're right," he mumbles, "i guess that's not your problem with me, not _that_."

* * *

changmin comes home early for attempt number two. the only light in the room is from the streetlamp outside and he lies on his back, watching shadows flicker across the ceiling. beside him, yunho stays as still as he possibly can, curled up away from him even though this sends small throbs of pain down his injured leg.

"i don't know which possibility is more worrying,” says changmin at last, ever so careful, “that you might have gone stir crazy from inactivity, or that you might actually be jealous after all we've been through.”

just like that, the fight in yunho's eyes extinguish, anger spluttering out and staggering him forward against changmin, weeks' worth of overcautious tension wasted. “it's probably a bit of both,” he admits, hiding his face in the crook of changmin's shoulder, “and maybe because i left you to deal with the store and everything by yourself, i should be helping and instead i'm a burden -”

“you're silly,” changmin murmurs, smoothing his hands down yunho's back. he's gotten smaller, changmin thinks, firmer but in a bone thin way where there was once dense muscle. “i was the one who thought. i was the one who.” frustration throbs and changmin pulls away, slides his palms to yunho's waist. he tries again for words: “people do crazy things to make this world bearable.” this sounds more correct, so he carries on, “it can't be helped. even though the war's over, this is our reality now.”

yunho hums in agreement, lets changmin lead him over to the stairs with an arm around his waist because he's greedy for touch. he grunts when his cast knocks against the first step, sinks down onto it and drags changmin to him. changmin makes a small sound of concern, skimming fingertips over his bandages, but yunho's got this faraway expression on and doesn't notice. finally he mentions, softly, cautiously, “that day, changmin-ah, when i broke my leg and you -”

“went too far,” changmin interrupts loudly. his grips tighten over yunho's forearm, demanding attention, but he's looking everywhere but at yunho. “i went too far and i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry i hurt you just now, and i won't do it again so please. _please_ don't be mad. don't hate me.” his voice drops to a whisper, “don't leave me.”

"i don't know which possibility is more worrying,” yunho says carefully, and when changmin jerks towards him, fearful, brushes his knuckle across his cheek, “that you might have gone stir crazy after avoiding me for so long, or that you actually believe i'd leave you after all we've been through.”

* * *

“hey, _hey_ ,” changmin mutters, bent over immaculate the crisp paper and immaculate records spread out amongst the mess of their table. "look at that. look at the numbers."

yunho sets his pistol and rag down to do just that, pressing up against changmin's side and peering over his shoulder. the neat printed numbers take a while to make sense before yunho sees it. they've made a profit, an actual honest to god profit they can send to their families instead of using it to compensate where the trading of goods had left them short. it's a good thing, it's an excellent thing, and yunho makes to smile but then he sees changmin frowning.

“if we've made a profit, then it would make more sense to stay here." changmin's frown turns into a scowl. "our families were lucky that they worked for the government so if we went home now, we'd just get in the way and take up more of their supplies and we'd be unemployed again and - "

yunho grabs his arm to stop him. "changmin, we already knew this," he says quietly, "we knew this from the very beginning. it's still a long while before we return to them."

changmin nods, then shakes his head, then clutches it in his hands. when he lifts it again, his mouth is pressed into a determined curve. “i want to go home," he says, loud like all the other times he'd needed to convince himself, to have someone else hear it for validation. today, he sounds of hope instead of desperation. " _i want to go home_ ," changmin repeats, "but - i like what we have here too. what we are here. it doesn't matter if it takes a while longer to make it back to our families because they're safe in the capital and we are mostly safe here." he sucks in a breath, anticipatory. 

"because you are here, i am home."

there is a pause wherein changmin fidgets nervously, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and yunho is - yunho is stunned, the air knocked straight out of his lungs, blood rushing in his ears. "that's exactly right," he manages somehow, right through the little gasp that escaped as soon as he opened his mouth, "that's, _oh_ , that's correct, yes, come here, you."

a violent shade of red, changmin scoots back as far as his chair will go, but yunho catches him anyway, knocks their foreheads together and grins right through the sting. he has to twist in his seat to reach him, and it would have been uncomfortable if changmin hadn't met him halfway. a small noise of surprise is shared between them. it's becoming more familiar, this kissing business, now that yunho knows to slant his mouth over changmin's so they fit together perfectly, to lick into his mouth and make him shiver, to swallow up the small, sweet sounds he makes… he's learning quick but there's so much more to come and he can hardly wait.

"changmin-ah," yunho says as he pulls back, flushed and breathless and maybe a bit reverent, "we're going to be fine, i know it."

**Author's Note:**

> i got the best remix of this [here](http://kpop-ficmix.livejournal.com/21851.html) by [verocity](verocity.livejournal.com).


End file.
